OFF Creepypasta~ The theory of Zacharie

Zacharie was only 3 when things began to spin downwards in his life. As soon as Grade 1 came around, Zacharie was picked on for the unusual scars that looked like red dots on either side of his mouth. The bullies became worse and worse as Zacharie grew older, until he reached the age of 13. In Grade 7, some people began to call Zacharie a "Nerd" and "Worthless".

"You're worthless!"

Sometimes, Zacharie would even feel so depressed, he slashed the word "Useless" on his arm with a blade that his mother used to cut bread. One day, Zacharie's mother found him in his room, and asked him to come outside to meet the neighbors. Zacharie refused to go with his mother. "Mom! I can't! Do you know what will happen if anyone else gets a glance of my... my... horrific face!?"

"It's not horrific, dear. It's unique. You shouldn't let them push you around, and you don't need to feel you need to cover it up."

Finally giving in to his mother's demands, Zacharie went outside with her to meet the neighbors across the street. It was a woman and a man, both giving Zacharie weird looks as soon as he showed up beside his mother. As if he was a kitten, his insticts pushed him towards his mother. The woman said, "Is this him?" "Yes." "He's... nice."

Zacharie knew exactly what the woman meant. He was horrific. He was ugly. He was everything wrong with the world. In fact, he hadn't even deserved to be born. His mother probably would've been much better off with another child, instead of him. The man was carrying a pistol, and brought it out against his mother, "This disgrace is your weak child? I thought you'd have better instincts to know he should never show his face again. Everyone will despise that ugly face of his." "It's not! Zacharie's my son, and I'll protect him with my life! I love him with my whole heart!" Then. The man lifted the Pistol and pulled the trigger, aiming straight at his mother... Zacharie jumped in the way... and was shot. Right in the chest.

When he woke up, he was in the hospital, where nurses and doctors were also giving him horrific looks, but tending to the wound in his chest and scars on his arms, that for some reason, now spelled "Mask me". Nobody knew what the horrific writting meant, but it definately was done by the blade of a knife. The same one Zacharie had used to cut words into his arms not too long before. As soon as he was released, his mother found him in his room, cutting the scars on his cheeks right off, spraying them with the blood that came out of the wounds, as if dying them red. He picked up what seemed to be a white mask object, and super glued the bloody skin marks to the cheeks, drawing a line like a frog's mouth between each one on either side.

Zacharie grabbed a string, and tied the Mask at the back, pulling it over his face, fake eyes of the mask covering his own. Underneath the mask, he smiled, but not normally, in more of a crude manner, and looked at his mother.

"Am I pretty now, mother?"

Zacharie's mother screamed and left the room, racing off to hide. As soon as she left, Zacharie looked down with his mask still plastered on his face like Paper mache, and tears of red ran down his face.

"...I am pretty."